


Cherry Blossom of the Hidden Leaf

by Daastan_Go



Category: Naruto
Genre: Body Horror, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gallows Humor, Humor, Language, Masturbation, Morbid, Multi, Parody, Porn, Satire, Sex, Sexual Humor, Underage Masturbation, Underage Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-08 12:33:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16429478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daastan_Go/pseuds/Daastan_Go
Summary: Her impossibly golden snatch grants, whoever seduces her, the power of the Jūbi. Now everyone wants her. (Sakura x Mass-Harem)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Naruto and all its characters are Kishimoto's legal property. I'm not making any money off this story; however, all the Original Characters, Original Plot-lines, and Original Themes are my own.
> 
> Warning: Morbid Content, Violence, Sex, Humour, and Strong Language. Reader discretion is advised.

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Long ago, in a distant past, there existed a curious little pussy. It was covered with such an airy puff of pink hair that was soft and curly. A pink bud decorated it right above the perfect groove nestled and hidden between smooth, eternally slick lips as though of a classic, ever-ready whore's. It was so divine, so golden, and so virgin that one gaze at its eternal glory by unwary eyes was enough to send a man to Nirvana and back. They called it . . . the atavistic pussy.

It struck fear in the hearts, awe in the souls, of men and beasts. Yes, beasts, too, strove to mount that woman in a heady daze and rut to a gushing release of contentment.

A simple whiff of it exploded like a wrathful storm upon villages that drove good men insane—he would swallow a clumsily-made blue-medicine by the archaic hands of medicine men and throw his fellow men under the carriages. His cock would rise, stiff and fat, hungry in pursuit of that holy cunt.

Their hearts—mostly throbbing cocks—would give chase to the blossoming woman, plunge their steel-hard fat ones into the depth of her cunt . . . and then they would feel power rush through them in waves, but their bodies were too fragile to be that deity's container. Many died, squirting their copious fluids up into the air till there was no more to give. Their balls sagged, penises shrivelled like dry leaves of summer. The wanker's doom and fluids of crushing desires were to be their demise.

Entire villages were decimated by its might. Weak men followed in its wake, minds befuddled by its charms . . . fucking, gushing, dying. There was no end to this madness!

So, one fateful day, the Sage gathered his wits, locked away the fires of his hairy loins, put Suiton around his quivering cock, and dismantled that pussy into nine wispy parts. Then he sealed its power deep into the cunts of nine virgin women. It was to remain trapped in their wombs for all eternity.

But, alas, Man is a feeble beast bereft of logic. Those lines rigorously mated with one another like domesticated rabbits in heat; and through generations of mind-numbing retardation of the human mind and spirit, such a pussy was reborn anew, siphoning off the essence that was rent asunder into many parts . . . into a single devastating cunt of glory. They called the child Haruno Sakura, and her pussy could speak to the darkness in the hearts of Men.

This was her story . . .

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	2. Chapter 2

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Sakura's first cry had lost the race behind the long, quick strides of her pussy's smell. The calm air of spring was permeated with its scent. Its small pink slit had throbbed and gushed forth a little squirt of that godly power, and outside the walls of their home, three men had met their makers—their cocks had grown fatter and fatter, venous, till they exploded in a viscous shower of white and red.

Women screamed as they erupted upon their faces in crazed delight. It was a misfire; their taut crowns had been aimed well at what lay beyond the walls. Many took to their heels after the sudden carnage, and some children poked at their drying balls and the remains of their limp cocks nestled between the diverse forests of dark intrigue . . . like little mushrooms, strange and sinister.

They breathed their last with a touch of euphoric rapture printed upon their countenances for all eternity. The smell of sex hung in the air for several days like a menacing spirit across the dusty road strewn with leaves. The Hokage was perplexed. Danzō had blamed the Sharingan's might. It was a tool of evil in his eyes.  _Who knows what dastardly machinations it’s capable of?_  Oh, Kami!

His venomous words reached the Uchiha Head's ears, and he had shuddered. His accusations just perplexed him, but things at home perplexed him more; his five-year-old often slipped an eager hand beneath the cotton-shorts to hold his little mushroom tight, with a riveted and curious expression forming on his blushing face. He had tossed aside the Genjutsu scrolls to engage in this aimless activity often . . . too often that he had happened by the disturbing scene several times a day in the past week. He was sure he had grown not a single stray curl on his round and tiny balls. What was wrong with him?

The air around them was weighty, and it made him horny quite often. He had bent his less-than-eager heavy wife over the bed to mount her in such a condition. He was surprised at his strange antics. Even Mikoto claimed that Sasuke was kicking up a storm in there. Something sinister was upon them, upon Konoha. It was about time he visited Madara and reread the hidden precepts about a certain pussy . . . could it be?

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	3. Chapter 3

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Konoha skies were still the same, grassy plains aquiver in the summer winds. It was all the same. Summers came and went, but this was a hot one. It burnt on his skin, sweat rising to his cheeks in protest. That was not the only thing that had grown sweaty and impatient: his loins were on fire, throbbing, balls tightening.

He had already gushed inside his pants . . . twice during this walk-of-shame to the Head's house. And when his mighty pecker stood like a threatening spear beneath his pants, seeking out that fragrant tight cunt, he had thanked the wind that billowed his robes out around the hips—a natural disguise like the generous hips of a coquettish, becoming woman.

His eyes skittered around the dusty road of Uchiha village, passing over the tense faces. They all bore signs of the trees' shadows, bliss, and worry. He could smell the semen off them. The hot air was thick with the scent of sex and longing. This village would be doomed . . .

The pussy was still young: a mere bud, but it had already shackled the balls of innocent men with its love-juice chakra-chains. Legends said that they were invisible and latched onto the penises with their mouths wispy . . . like the teeth-filled, iron-hard jaws of a greedy whore.

It was etched well into their ancestral tablet that a crazed and horny man sprouted those chains after fucking her one autumn morning. His son was born with dark-pink hair—red was just a translation error in the manuscripts. And that was how the Uzumaki Clan was born.  _Cunt-Chains_  were their specialty. It was the defense mechanism from the Kami to exert power over the Jūbi-Pussy.

The end was nigh, descending slowly and rapturously upon them like a juicy snatch upon the face of a jittery virgin man with the promises of fucking, only to be shown the devastating courtesy of a friend put into the zone of . . . something (friend-zone?). And when he had looked upon the mucus dangling there from the fleshy lips, he had experienced the greatness of Kami!

Such were the thoughts that raced, like rabbits chasing the cushy behinds of their willing females, in his perverted mind. Finally, he reached the house that was nestled beneath a leaning tree. A whiff of something strong reached his nose, and he clutched Itachi tight to himself. The boy had his hand in his pants again, but he did not have the heart to pull it out. The grin on his young face was making him afraid. So very afraid.

So he picked his way to the door, walking with his Shinobi-senses on high alert. Itachi's flapping nostrils caught the sluggish expansion of the smell, too. His grin widened, and adjusting his little buttocks over Fugaku's arm, he pushed his hand deeper in as if he was searching for a pouch of gold lost in a shallow mound of dirt. He was scaring the life out of him . . .

When he reached the door and opened it, the smell hit him like a boulder. There was sticky white everywhere, and beneath all that mountain of slime, there was a supine man. He could see a single clear patch there, and beneath it, a Sharingan whizzing in his eye. A cock slowly rose up from the thick white sea in excitement, a quivering reed, and a scream tore itself from the throat of his once-proud patriarch: "the end is nigh! The end is nigh!"

Fugaku let loose a long and terrifying scream and flung Itachi up into the air—he had no idea that the trajectory of the boy's flight was aimed straight at Madara's hot loins . . .

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End file.
